Past the Boundaries
by XB16B2
Summary: Marauders: Four moody adolescent boys on the brink of a war. At what point will the atrocities on both sides reflect each other? And when will the common sense start? R & R, por favor.
1. Set the Stage

Summary: Extremes can be frighteningly similar. Hotheaded adolescent wizards fight on both side of the line, but how far will the Marauders go in their fight against the Dark Lord? How far to go before the atrocities committed on both sides reflect each other exactly? And when will common sense win through?

_A/N: This is probably going to be a long one. Inspired by a conversation between some fellow history geeks about the similarities between communism and fascism; details worked out with the help of [Sophia. Thanks for reading, reviews highly appreciated. _

"Bollocks," James Potter proclaimed with profound irritation, jumping backwards as the Exploding Snap cards burst into flame. Across the table, Sirius Black was laughing heartily, sprawled against one of the many armchairs in the Gryffindor Common Room. In said armchair was one moderately amused, moderately annoyed Remus Lupin. He had obviously been jerked out of a studious trance, judging from the close proximity of his left hand to his mouth. Remus always chewed his nails while studying, a habit he hadn't broken even by their collective sixth year.

"Tough luck, James," Peter Pettigrew said, his voice cracking mid-sentence, enough to make him blush furiously as he patted his friend's shoulder in what was obviously meant to be a smoothly conciliatory manner. Being Peter and having contracted a chronic case of 'wannabe' early on in his life, it was ineffective in all but displaying his pathetically obsequious manner. James shrugged him off and ran a hand through his black hair. His moods had been extreme lately, not assisted by the pointed comments that Lily Evans made involving the phrases 'James Potter' and 'PMSing' in a very close vicinity to one another. If anyone but Lily had dared tempt James's quick and egotistical temper it would have been widespread consensus that the Marauder was, indeed, doing so. 

"Don't sweat it Prongs," Sirius drawled lazily, collecting the now extinguished cards into a messy pile before Peter scurried over to neaten it up. He wore his hair longer than any of the others in a purposeful imitation of the Muggle band. Yes, Sirius, of the Noble House of Black, was intentionally trying to get on his parents' nerves by reflecting the Muggle 'Beatlemania'. Whatever could be said about the style and intentions behind it, there was one thing certain: his popularity with the female contingent of the school had not waned. _Unlike_ James, Sirius usually used his popularity to plan and pull pranks rather than for dating purposes. After all, the last thing Sirius wanted was to do something his parents would approve of, particularly if it was going to get back to them. Which it would, courtesy of Regulus, pureblooded git that he was.

"Remus, did you finish that essay for Professor Binns?" Peter asked nervously, rearranging the cards with tattered fingers. Not only did he chew his nails, but he chewed the skin around them too. Although technically a Marauder, he almost never used the nicknames they had given each other. It was almost if he knew instinctively that he could not pull off the flippant broadcast of their actions blatantly flouting magical law the way Sirius and James could. Nor could he use them in the familial manner that Remus did. This was the one area in his life where Peter Pettigrew showed recognition of his inability to achieve the status of the other three.

" 'Course he did, it's Moony," James again, still mussing his hair every five seconds, now looking around the commons for his current girlfriend, Enna MacDougall. Honestly nothing more to him than a snog in the corner and that furtive potential of maybe, just maybe, the jealousy of Lily Evans.

"Actually, no." Remus looked up from his book again. His face was paler than usual and a bright red scratch ran under his left eye. Usually, the werewolf didn't look this exhausted until after the full moon. "I was going to do that tonight."

Peter gaped, uncapable of hiding his shock. Sirius gave a barking laugh of surprise. James gave up his visual search for Enna to peer at his friend in an equal display of astonishment. 

"One for the history books." James declared finally. "R. Lupin, werewolf extraordinaire, not only fails to do his homework a week before it is assigned, but also procrastinates an _entire day_ to do said assignment a mere fourteen hours before it is due." His eyes resumed the wandering over the Common Room as Remus flinched at the mention of his problem. Peter's watery blue eyes flicked from James to Remus, obviously wondering if he should say something. Sirius solved his dilemma.

"Lay off it, James." he ordered. "Leave Moony's furry little problem to him. It's probably just girlfriend trouble, yeah?"

The tinge of faint colour that came to Remus's face was enough to verify the truth of Sirius's statement.

"Oh, that sort," James shrugged, still in a nasty temper. "So dump her."

The argument that would have come was forestalled by the sudden and dramatic arrival of one Minerva McGonagall, newly Head of Gryffindor House after the retirement of old Professor Amortina. She was young(in her late twenties), vaguely handsome, and easily exciteable. Unfortunately, she also had a nose for troublemakers. Even more unfortunately, she was wielding a scroll that had the nasty look of a school-wide announcement. With a pointed clearing of her throat, she began to read. As she read, smiles slowly grew on the faces of Sirius and James; by the end of the announcement, they were positively brimming with excitement at the potential this brought to their lives, arguments and bad tempers set aside for a time. After all, Marauders they were and Marauders they would remain.


	2. Rat in the Night

Summary: Extremes can be frighteningly similar. Hotheaded adolescent wizards fight on both side of the line, but how far will the Marauders go in their fight against the Dark Lord? How far to go before the atrocities committed on both sides reflect each other exactly? And when will common sense win through?

_A/N: This is probably going to be a long one. Inspired by a conversation between some fellow history geeks about the similarities between communism and fascism; details worked out with the help of MoonlitLightning. Thanks for reading, reviews highly appreciated. Many thanks to those who have already R & R'd!_

Tapping his foot and fidgeting. Checking the time and gnawing his thumbnail. Peter's watery blue eyes skittered across the dark hallway. Waiting to be caught. Waiting to be thrown out of school, to be given detention, to get thousands of points docked from Gryffindor. To be the laughingstock of the entire school, or despised by his housemates. Waiting for the catastrophe he knew was imminent. There would be a catastrophe, of course. There had to be. There were always people around at Hogwarts, be it the ghosts or the caretaker. Intelligent animals, even. Mrs. Norris had almost pounced on him more than once since James had helped him become an Animagus like the rest of them.

He was honoured, of course, to be one of them. The Marauders. It was a name respected and revered throughout the school. It was a name that had his own name attached to it, one Peter Pettigrew, halfblood from nowhere in London. Not particularly tricky in class like Remus, not smart and handsome like James or Sirius, but still one of the Marauders. It earned him respect. Everybody looked up to him because he was attached to them. 

Unfortunately, that schoolwide respect would win him nothing when they got caught. _If, if. It might not happen. Sirius planned it out._ Peter was never sure if Sirius really liked him though. Sirius Black was a pureblood, probably dating back to Merlin if you went back far enough. His family had status and money, but Sirius was smart enough, popular enough, confident enough to tease his parents with dishonour and not have anything happen to him. His humour was too caustic, though. You could never tell, looking into those eyes, what he was really thinking. Would Sirius set him up for a fall?

James liked him, that Peter was sure of. James Potter, pureblooded as Sirius but twice as confident, twice as self-assured, three times as egotistical. They had been friends ever since Peter spilled a rather volatile potion on Severus Snape (purely on accident, though James didn't need to know that) their first year. James protected him when needed, kidded around, but didn't take anything seriously. Peter could trust James.

Back and forth, pacing in front of the door in the dark hallway. The short, rather rotund sixth year jumped nervously as claws scraped across the stone wall a few paces to the left. He didn't know what it was. He didn't want to know. His thumb was red-raw now, close to the point of bleeding. Peter was going to have a small heart attack if the other three didn't come out of the Trophy Room soon. 

Peter nearly _did_ have a heart attack as he felt something tap him on the shoulder. The boy whirled, excuses ready to bubble from his lips, blue eyes already welling up with patently pathetic tears. _Please, professor, I was sleepwalking, I woke up, where am I? Professor, it wasn't my fault, I swear! Professor, please don't give me detention. Please don't expel me._

White teeth gleamed in the dark, a not-entirely-reassuring smile from Sirius Black. Even with his ridiculous Muggle style haircut everybody agreed that he was handsome. Not in the way that James was, though. Sirius had always been darker, more prone to ironic humour and cynicism. Even his eyes were dark, appearing black in the light. Or, rather, the lack of light. Wandering around Hogwarts after curfew was not something for the weak at heart to do. Again, Peter wondered how Sirius felt about him, really. 

"Come see," his voice was low and amused. Peter hesitantly walked through the Trophy Room door, leaving Sirius to stand guard. Sirius always made a lousy guard. He was too cocky and made too much noise. Well, maybe that was just Peter's own paranoia that was making him say that, but still. Leaving an important job like standing guard to someone like Sirius Black…it made him nervous.

When Peter let go of the door handle, he left a smudge of blood where his thumb had been.


	3. Werewolf's Night In

Summary: Extremes can be frighteningly similar. Hotheaded adolescent wizards fight on both side of the line, but how far will the Marauders go in their fight against the Dark Lord? How far to go before the atrocities committed on both sides reflect each other exactly? And when will common sense win through?

_A/N: This is probably going to be a long one. Inspired by a conversation between some fellow history geeks about the similarities between communism and fascism; details worked out with the help of MoonlitLightning. Thanks for reading, reviews highly appreciated. Many thanks to those who have already R & R'd!_

Remus was a werewolf with a moral dilemma, a girlfriend crisis, and a History of Magic essay due in a mere seven hours. He was, in addition, not bad looking, although a bit pale. Awake and theoretically writing his essay at two o'clock in the morning, Remus was the last Marauder awake tonight. The rest had gone to bed after the raid on the Trophy Room. That particular escapade could be neatly marked down as the cause of the moral dilemma.

There were two parts of Remus. The part that heartily enjoyed the full moon romps with his friends in Animagus form, thought Severus Snape was a slimy git, and knew that Lily Evans was going to end up with James sooner or later. On the other hand, there was also that persistant part of him that knew they were breaking wizarding law under Dumbledore's nose, knew James and Sirius could be as nasty to Snape as he was to them, and occasionally backed Lily's disdain for James's actions. It all ended up in a nasty conflict. The werewolf and the prefect. 

Someday he would write verbose and epic poetry on the subject, win an Order of Merlin, and be featured on the cover of _Witch Weekly_. 

On the off chance that particular career path wasn't effective, however, Remus was not going to stop pursuing his studies as it was. Which, unfortunately, meant finishing this essay for History of Magic. And before he could finish it, he would have to start it. Truly an unfortunate and necessary state of affairs. Essays on the Thirty Years War (Magical) were always painful. Essays on the Thirty Years War (Magical) that made up ten percent of your final grade, were a minimum fifteen inches of parchment, and were begun at 2:17 in the morning were labeled with a 'Masochists Only' sign. Or should be, at any rate.

_The Bohemian Phase of the Thirty Years War was characterized by_ , Remus began, then flipped open his History of Magic book. He remembered the motivations of the war (religion on both sides), but couldn't remember the name of the Pope who had been in charge at the time. Contrary to Muggle belief, many of the early leaders of the Catholic church had been wizards; the Protestant Reformation had partially been due to a disagreement on the ethical use of what would become the Unforgiveable Curses. Needless to say, it was a fact excluded from many Muggle history books. 

What was he going to do about Marlene? Remus's attention was very divided. Understandably, he felt as though he should do something about this particular problem. It had come up with his girlfriends before, almost always foreshadowing a breakup, occasionally of the nasty sort. The worst had been when Sirius had set him up with that cousin of his—Bellatrix. Bella had been nice at the beginning, at least. Unfortunately, she also had the same kind of pureblood connections that Sirius and James had, which meant the ready availability of a wizarding genealogy. As soon as it came out that Remus wasn't quite as pure as she'd believed (his furry little problem thankfully had not been brought into the picture), things had gone nasty. It had ended with Sirius hexing Bella purple. Literally.

The problem with Marlene was Trust. Yes, with that capital t. The thing that girls tended to talk about among themselves, to themselves, in their heads…however they came up with the ideas they did was beyond Remus. He spoke two languages, got top marks in Ancient Runes, and still could not manage to figure out where Marlene had gotten the idea that he was cheating on her. For one, he objected to the use of the terminology; Remus didn't feel that it was appropriate unless the couple in question was married, or at least seriously dating. He liked Marlene, but pragmatic honesty was a fundamental part of his character. He, Remus, was a werewolf. A sixteen year old werewolf. With little or no potential of getting a job as an adult and the tendency to kill rabbits during the full moon.

She said he was lying to her. Yes, but did she really want to know that once a month he grew fur and went mental in the Shrieking Shack? Or had, until his friends turned Animagi for him. No, she did not.

If only Sirius were still awake. Arrogant and sarcastic he could be, but he also gave good advice. Or at the very least, would listen and make disparaging comments about Marlene. The sort that separated Remus again, between laughing at them (they were always hilarious and firmly based in exaggerated truth) and telling him off; Marlene was his girlfriend, after all.

For the time being.


End file.
